He has been playing all morning with this strange look on his face, as though he’s frightened and calm at the same time. And whenever he pauses I get the feeling he’s actually wanting to speak to me about something. Something important. When I ask him what it is he’s playing he tells me: “I thought I might compose something for you. You and Mary. For the wedding. Or after the wedding, whichever you prefer.” I thank him, pleasantly surprised, but the expression doesn’t leave him and I wonder… Something seems to be very wrong and I’m not entirely sure how to address it. Perhaps it’s better left alone.His gaze in mine, sudden goose bumps up my arms and yes, I do believe it is better left well alone.
Innocent-Sherlock. There’s sass behind every facial movement.
Come back to me. Please.
You are a hollow. You are grief. You are a shadow and a thief. You stole yourself away and left me here alone. You are a stone, a weight. I can’t move. Too late. Too late to tell you things. Too late for last requests. You’re somewhere else. I feel you’ve gone astray. I try to follow, but step by step you fade away.